

immature
I want to go along innocently and
Maybe forget that I've heard all these words before from other
Men's lips.
At least you're different in a way that
Truly matters. But I'm afraid I'm just looking to be
Understood. And we
Really barely know each other...
Except it feels so right to be with you;
no matter how immature that sounds.
When they take your heart
the ribs lose their purpose, so
the bones turn brittle,
and as they splinter,
the body suffocates, twitching
and panting, begging with a purple face,
because the lungs gift the precious air to the void,
blowing the dusty remnants of the ribs into the crevice
your brain knows the heart should be
dig myself into a hole
its that time of year again when
my brain refuses to let me move.
so on my bed i lay
wondering if i even care if i turn
into a husk
here and now.
feeling inconsequential.
Bleach. Shaken, not stirred.
You dragged me to the edges of myself,
got high off the pure bliss
of gutting me.
From the inside out.
..
hours of dry heaving
tells me there's nothing left
of my insides.
You've thoroughly cleaned me out.
Yet. I still feel it.
..
The ghost of you
leaving behind traces of an unwanted
war. between us.
..
I stare at my stained clothes
at the bleach sitting beside them.
And my entire being leans towards it.
To be clean once more.
She Carries the World
She cradles the deserts, scorch marks and blisters paint her arms.
She cries out the oceans, her eyes unseeing from the salt.
She holds the forests in her palms, tree roots piercing skin and bones.
She breathes the wind, gasping wails of pain.
She bears the mountains on her shoulders, bones crushing under solid rock.
She wears the sun upon her head, her hair catching fire.
She supports the ice in her middle, her heart frozen over within her ribcage.
She leaps from star to star, her bare feet cut and bruised from foriegn cliffs.
the sun doesn’t feel
keep the clouds at bay
it doesn't always rain on funerals
the sun doesn't blink when i consider
the different means to my end
in broad daylight
unabashed to slice with hidden thorns
loving roses grow
sunkissed skin with no remorse
warms and dries
turns to burns
Spilling Ink
Were they really just daydreams?
Things you said, just to make me silly in the head?
I hated myself later...now
For reading between every word
listening to every breath
believing every soft whisper
smiling at every text
dreaming every night.
Forgetting that every snake slithers.
Breathe
Falling upwards
into a bottomless sky
.
Breathe
.
Grabbing onto
air trying to stop
.
Breathe
.
Mouth open
in a silent scream
.
Breathe
.
Stars becoming
closer and closer and closer
.
Breathe
.
Running out
of air
.
Can't
.
.
Breathe
Leave it All Behind
"Will you still be here in the morning?"
I raise my eyebrows at the elderly man sitting across from me, "Is there a reason I should be?"
"Well...You know your parents should be back--"
"I know when they'll be back, I'm the one that paid for their entire vacation. I didn't come to see them. I'll be gone before their flight even lands."
I came to see my childhood home, to see if it was what I remembered, or if it was better or warmer even. But no. It was the same house, only now filled with more exquisite decorations--decorations bought with the money I'd given them over the years without even a 'thank you' note in return.
"Linzi, you haven't seen them since you moved out... They're your parents," Kenny's wrinkled hands shake slightly from an emotion that is hidden from his soft, thoughtful face. He's what people would call a family friend, to me he's the grandpa I wish I had. And he's currently house sitting for my constantly emotionally unavailable parents.
The feeling that has always haunts my stomach thunders to life, an unexplainable anxiety. The need to leave. I've been here too long. The air is heavier and the lights are brighter. Too bright. My foot starts tapping a terrified beat.
"Try telling them that, Kenny." Even my voice is shaky. I quickly rise to my feet, and dust off the crumbs of dinner. "I need to go."
"Wait!" Kenny's old joints audibly moan as he starts to follow me up. But I'm already rushing from the dining room to the front door.
"Linzi!" He calls after me, but my expensive fur coat's draped over my shoulder, and my right hand grips my keys and phone.
When the door opens, and the cool night air sinks into my bones, a bit of the anxiety fades. I'm almost gone, almost free.
"Your bags!" Kenny calls, still in the dining room. He's stopped trying to chase after me, because this is what happens every time I stay too long.
"I'll just buy more."
I shut the door with finality; the road awaits.
I wonder where I'll go next, if anywhere will be enough to hold me for more than a couple of days. If I can ever find a place that gives me inner peace, where my soul can be put to rest.
But for now, I'll just be the journeying rich girl the media ponders and my parents ignore.